Collision
by liian risera
Summary: Centuries later, when the Winter War has become nothing more than a legend, worlds collide again. OC fanfic, PM to submit your own, OC template on chapter 1.
1. Introduction

_**Taken ranks will be posted and updated on my profile.**_ Because wouldn't it be embarrassing if I had to tell you that someone's already taken that rank you wanted? Yeah._**  
**_

Welcome to Collision, my new multichaptered everyone's-an-OC fanfic! Obviously, _everyone_'s gonna be an OC in this fic. No Ichigo, no Rukia, no Aizen. Those guys have already died centuries, or maybe even a couple millennia ago, and are no longer a part of the Bleach world in _this _story.

This type of fic is more writer/reader interaction than anything else, and since everyone's gone, we need new shinigami! Hurry up if you want those nice ranks, we already have a few positions taken! The more characters I get, the easier it is for me to write. And the more I write, the more YOU get to read ;)

**ABSOLUTELY NO MARY SUES/GARY STU'S.** ANY SUBMITTED WILL BE REJECTED/COMPLETELY ALTERED. Confused about Mary Sues? Take a litmus test (they're all over the internet).

**A few tips from me on how to avoid creating Sues:** Everyone has flaws, and it's impossible for the whole world to feel positive about someone. Remember that "oh I feel so insecure and angsty and horrible because I'm a monster and I'm too strong for my own good and I hate myself" is totally NOT a flaw. And never, ever, EVER base an OC on yourself, or who you wish you were like. Just don't.

SEND OCs BY PM (preferred).

**Name:** (last, first)

**Age: **Shinigami's age = 10x appearance, usually.**  
**

**Rank:** division, seat (if any), etc. **FIRST COME FIRST SERVE. YOU MAY NOT GET WHAT YOU WANT.**

**Personality: **details.

**Appearance:** details. Hair color and style, eye color, scars, other defining characteristics. Feel free to make references to other Bleach characters.

**COMBAT INFO**

**General: **Are their strengths kidou and shunpo/footwork? Are their weaknesses swordsmanship and hand-to-hand? etc.

**ZANPAKUTO:**

**Name and translation/meaning -**

**Type - **Elemental/Kido-based/Long or short ranged, etc

**Sealed form -** Regular katana, nodachi, kodachi, wakizashi, dagger, etc. Include color of sheath, grip, guard, any other defining characteristics**  
**

**Shikai release command and special ability(s) -** Be SPECIFIC and DETAILED.

_CAPTAINS ONLY:_

**Bankai - **State their release phrase (eg "Hihio Zabimaru", "Chire, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi"), along with what new appearance (if any) your character has. See Renji's outfit when he bankai's.

**Feel free to include any other information. Also keep in mind that this will be MY story, I have the right to get rid of any characters so don't come to me with a hissy fit because I killed your OC. **(sorry for sounding like a jerk, but seriously, sometimes it's hard to get through otherwise ._.)**  
**

**Thank you very much, and enjoy the story!**


	2. Prologue

The sky was black, illuminated by the forever-glowing white crescent moon hanging in the heavens. The occasional glass tree dotted the landscape, clear and beautiful and lifeless like crystals. The ruins of some ancient, forgotten building—though the otherwise clean state of the rock said otherwise—could be seen in the distance, the wind whistling through the broken stones.

White and black, white and black. The only other color to be seen was red, bright red; a tiny spot of brightness in the vast sea of silver dunes.

_Thp thp thp_. A pair of black-sandaled feet stepped out of the shadows and stopped at the blossom of crimson, its source a body lying on the sand. A slender figure bent over and flicked a lock of dark red hair away from the prostrate form's face.

It—he—opened his eyes, and brilliant eyes they were, golden in color. He saw the new arrival and smiled faintly. The woman only glared back at him, her own ruby eyes glinting coldly in the moonlight.

"Fool."

Her voice was cool, flat, harsh, and maybe even a bit angry.

"I told you not to go," she continued, "and _this_ is what you get yourself into."

"Were you _worrying_ about me, Irene?" The gold-eyed man smirked despite the thin line of red dribbling out of his mouth. "Aw, sweet of you."

"What about you, Damian?" Irene spat back, "Weren't we supposed to wait? Wasn't this your idea in the first place? Then you and your temper had to bring it all to nothing!"

Damian sighed a shuddering, rattling sigh. "If it's any comfort to you, I got them all," he said with a touch of pride, "Less work for you, you know."

Irene closed her eyes, pretending not to have heard him, and sat down on her knees a few inches from the top his head, scratching absent-mindedly at the reddened sand with a fingernail.

"Hey, Irene?" He sounded strange. Nervous, almost. "There's no need to go around killing every shinigami you see, alright?"

Irene narrowed her eyes and stared down at him, a look that would have frozen any other man. "Close your mouth for once," she said coolly, "It's almost as if you want to die sooner."

Damian sighed again, his breath sounding heavy and thick. "Yeah, well," he breathed out softly. "It hurts like hell."

The two fell silent then. Irene's features seemed to harbor something like contempt, or anger, which eventually simmered into one of quiet frustration as the seconds—or minutes, or hours, who knew?—ticked slowly by. Neither said a word.

Neither said a word as the wind whispered through the gleaming, crystalline trees, or gently blew a dusting of sand across the desert.

Neither said a word as the lizard inhabitants of their black and white world scuttled and scrabbled in and out of their holes in the sand.

Neither said a word as Damian began to disintegrate and melt away with the eternal night sky, though Irene made a belated half-grab for his dissolving white sleeve, only for it to slip away from her grasp.

Gone.

Irene tightened her jaw ever so slightly and rose from her kneeling position on the ground.

_Tch_, she thought, clothes billowing gently behind her, _typical of a man to leave when there's still work to do._

That was what she told herself, but she knew that neither of them were at fault. One day, the tables would turn. One day… Irene turned and began her journey to their makeshift hideout. She walked away without a backward glance.

Behind her, the bright splashes of red vanished as well, leaving no trace of what had happened there.


	3. Chapter 1

**Just a note: Irene is pronounced "EAR-in-ay". Thanks everyone for the reviews and favorites and alerts and character submissions! Though I would rather have reviews... (hint hint xD)**

* * *

"LESLIE! Oh my god I love you sooo much!" Ashley hugged her best friend and jumped back to further admire the decorations made on her locker. Leslie had come to school early that day to tape wrapping paper on it, patterned brightly with orange and pink stripes, then pasted the words "HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASH, ILY!!!" and several hearts and stars cut from paper over it.

Leslie grinned ear to ear. "Happy birthday Ashley! Can you believe that we're seniors already!? It's amazing!"

"It's kinda scary, too, though. But whatever, it doesn't matter, since we're going to the same college anyway!" Ashley practically danced with excitement, "Oh yeah, did I tell you what _Jake _said the other day?"

"Jake? That _idiot_? Oh my god, it better not be anything perverted," Leslie rolled her eyes, "Oh wait a sec, it's _Jake_, so never mind..."

"Yeah, but I'll tell you anyways. He's been pretty pissed off since you dumped him. Listen, he said that..." Ashley whispered into Leslie's ear as the two of them walked giggling to homeroom.

--

Leslie shouldered her backpack (stupid teachers, it was so fricking heavy) and stepped out of the school building. It was five pm and the sky was just beginning to get dark (since winter was coming and all that crap). Ugh, after school music rehearsals were the dumbest thing the school board ever decided on. But at least it was a Friday, and she could easily walk home (and still be in time for Ashley's birthday sleepover). She reached into her pocket and pulled out her music player, absentmindedly flipping through songs.

She was about to jam the buds in her ears when she noticed something strange.

To her right, in the track field, there was a guy in some weird costume.

_Probably another nerd from the Drama Club_, she thought, snorting. But that was odd, since this year's school musical had nothing to do with what _he _was wearing...it looked like a cross between of those Chinese (or Japanese or whatever) martial arts uniforms and funeral clothing. And _what the hell_ was he doing on the field?

Nevertheless, she walked a little closer to the boy. She noticed that he had longish dark hair and fair skin...which was strange, since he looked about her age and there was no one in any of her classes who looked like him. But then again, lots of people slipped her notice so it didn't matter all that much.

"Hey! Hey, you!"

He didn't turn around.

This was really weird. He was obviously close enough to hear her (fifty feet, at the most), even if she wasn't shouting. Leslie bristled. There was no one, _no one_, who ignored Leslie Jensen, even if that action wasn't returned.

"HEY! You in the costume!"

This time he responded, faint confusion showed on his face before quickly turning into annoyance. He obstinately flipped his head the other way, though she was certain she heard him hiss something that sounded like "go away". She stormed her way to him, closing the distance between them.

He turned to face her again, and his expression stopped her dead. Cold disdain and anger contorted his features, an expression so condescending that Leslie instinctively took a step backward. She swallowed and (since there was no one else there to witness it anyway) slowly backed away. _No use wasting time arguing with a creeper like him_, she thought to herself nervously.

Suddenly the sky ripped open.

A hellish scream _literally _shook the air. Leslie watched open-mouthed as the ground trembled and her vision and hearing grew fuzzy. As they cleared, she saw something that looked like it belonged in a horror movie, and she had seen plenty of _those_.

It had a grinning animal skull fixed to its head, pasty and sickly pale in color. A thick tail lashed back and forth behind it, and it raised its head as if it were sniffing the air, giving the creature a terrible sort of _hungry _feel to it.

Leslie felt panic welling up inside of her and struggled to suppress it. God, what the hell was that thing? Why was the air so heavy all of a sudden? Why did it feel as if something was squeezing her lungs and not allowing her to breathe properly?

And _why _was that dark-haired guy standing so relaxed? Couldn't he see it, feel it!? Then, right before her eyes, he raised his hand and murmured something inaudible under the screeching of the new arrival. A ball of pinkish-red fire or light shot out of his palm, hitting the monster dead in the face.

_Magic?_

God, she must seriously be going insane.

She stared at him and their eyes locked for an instant. For a second, she thought he smirked. It must have been her seeing things, as it disappeared, and he jerked his head sharply to their right.

"Go. Run!"

As if she needed an invitation.

She turned tail and fled as fast as her legs could carry her, trying not to wonder how quickly the thing behind her could run. Risking a backward glance, she almost choked in shock.

He had a sword.

It was a real, honest to goodness sword! And not only that, but he was using it to _fight _the thing. He was jumping, twenty feet into the air, at least! Who—no, _what _was this person!? Leslie blindly slapped an arm against the wire fence for support, gulping for air. It really was getting hard to breathe. She closed her eyes before deciding that it was probably a dumb decision to make in a situation like this and reopened them.

Oh god, what the hell was going on!?

_Don't cry, Leslie, don't panic, don't cry, not now_, she thought to herself fiercely,_ it's probably just another bad dream, and then you'll wake up and you can text Ashley. Yeah, it's just another bad dream, just another…just another…bad… Slow down, you can think your way out of this…_

Forcing herself to straighten up again, she took deep breaths to calm herself. In her mind, she scanned her surroundings for the quickest way out of this place.

But…what about the guy in the black?

_Forget about him,_ her mind snapped, _he's got a weapon, you don't! Just leave him! You've never bothered about others before anyway, why's he any different!?_

But, still….was it right to leave him like that? More of the creatures had appeared in the sky (the whole world was so messed up already she didn't even try to think of how they could walk on the air) and he was fighting them like crazy—the first one was gone, she noticed.

What to do, what to do!? A sob of terror caught in Leslie's throat. Dreams weren't supposed to be like this! Ever since her parents had divorced, she had slowly taught herself how to force herself awake from a nightmare, so why wasn't it working? Why wasn't it working!?

"W-WAKE UP!" she screamed, "WAKE—UP!!!" She glared at the boy and the monsters, her eyes stinging from sudden tears of—what? Fear? Confusion? A low rumbling growl sounded behind her, she stiffened and started to turn—

The next thing she knew, hot wet fire slashed across her back. The ground lurched and her senses were quickly snuffed out.


	4. Chapter 2

Beep beep…

Beep beep…

Beep beep…

Ugh…so tired…wasn't it a Saturday? Then why was the alarm…Leslie groaned. Maybe she had forgotten to turn it off the other day. Her eyes were still heavy from sleep, so she decided opening them wasn't worth the effort. She pulled an arm out from under the soft blanket and her hand fumbled around the table for the alarm clock.

It landed on something warm and hairy.

She screamed, jerking her hand away and snapping her eyes open. This wasn't her room! It was...it looked like one of those hospital areas she often saw in the movies, only it looked a lot more…well, there was a wooden floor, and it had more colors than plain white. There was less of that sterilized feel.

"Oh hey, you're finally up?"

She shrieked again, at which the other person in the room winced slightly. Her eyes grew round in shock.

_What was wrong with her hair?_

It was white! _Completely_ white, like…paper! Leslie attempted to relax (hyperventilation was not the way to go, as she had proved many times in night games) and took in more of the stranger.

It was a girl, and quite a young one at that—probably ten, maybe twelve at the most. Her (Leslie flinched) _white_ hair was cut messily short (it seemed messier than it should have been; perhaps because her head was the object Leslie's hand had landed on), just a bit longer than chin length and her eyes were a foggy light purple. And she was wearing something she could only describe as a cross between a vest and a cape. She looked rather washed out, in Leslie's opinion, as if someone had taken a picture of a girl (wearing contacts?) and set the saturation to almost-zero on one of those computer drawing program things.

"What _happened_ to you?" was the first thing that popped out of Leslie's mouth.

"Hey!" a new voice sounded, indignant, "Give the Captain some respect, will you?" She whirled around and saw…holy shit! It was the same guy from her drea—then…was it really a dream? Oh god…this was probably what a hangover felt like.

"Okay…" Leslie breathed, feeling calm enough to be as reasonable as possible in her situation, "So, what happened?"

The other two glanced at each other, which only made her feel even more nervous.

"Well…" the little girl (she had pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and pushed something, silencing the beeps) cleared her throat, "Ah…I'm…not sure how to break it to you...but—"

"You died, is what happened," the boy cut in bluntly, "On the field where you saw me and the hollows, you died."

"Well now, that explains everything," Leslie hissed, "Can you repeat that?"

"I said, you d—"

Leslie cut him off with a wave and turned to the white-haired girl.

"Okay, since _he's _not making any sense, can _you_ explain?"

"Sure," she replied steadily, while the male muttered something under his breath, "But let me introduce ourselves first," she said, pretending not to notice Leslie's impatient snort, "My name is Rin, and this is Daisuke Ishimoto. And you are..?"

"Leslie Jensen," she scowled back, "and what's up with all the weird names—"

"RI-IN! I'M BAAACK~!" A new woman, probably in her late teens or early twenties threw herself into the room and practically tackled Rin, resting her chin on her head; wrapping her arms around her shoulders and swaying from side to side, moving Rin along with her. Meanwhile, Daisuke quietly slipped into the background and picked up a book.

"Hey, Kasaiko," Rin said without the slightest hint of surprise, "Tell me later, alright? This is Leslie Jensen."

Kasaiko didn't move from her position as she surveyed Leslie with narrowed eyes. "So this the new kid, huh? You've gotten a bit famous, actually, what with one of the Fourth Division's beds used up for the past few days and all."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Leslie snapped. Kasaiko sat down.

"You. Have. Been. Invalid. For. The. Past. Four. Days," she enunciated every syllable carefully as if speaking to a child. "Do I seriously need to spell it out for you?"

Leslie just glared at her, though she couldn't hide her confusion.

"Ah, Rin," Kasaiko sighed, "Are all humans this slow?" She snickered to herself, which only served to increase Leslie's anger.

"Shut up!" she snarled fiercely, "Will someone just tell me...oh my god! Oh my god oh my god...I...Ashley's party! Shit shit shit! I missed it! Oh my god…" she turned to Rin. "Okay, never mind! Just get me the hell out of here! I need to—"

"Can't," Rin interjected, the warm tone in her voice suddenly gone, "Ishimoto was right. _Is _right. But let's introduce you to our..._world_, shall we?" she made a quick movement with her hands, and Leslie suddenly found herself unable to speak or move her limbs. She opted for glaring furiously at the other three people present.

"Very nice," the girl (who, now that she thought of it, was actually a little creepy) smiled, "I don't like it when people interrupt me. But I'll be as clear and brief as possible. You are in Soul Society right now. Soul Society is...the 'afterlife'; I suppose that's what you could call it. It's not heaven or hell, just sort of an…in between, if you will.

"Now I'm sure you remember the creatures you saw shortly before passing out, correct?" Leslie nodded and thought she could detect a sort of briskness in her voice that reminded her unpleasantly of the school counselors. She had met up with them to "cope" with her parents' divorce. Not that she ever _needed _them, of course.

"Those are called 'hollows'. They are made from the souls of dead humans unwilling to move on, and live to kill and eat other humans, be they dead or living. The most common way to defeat them, other than being eaten by their own kind, is to use a zanpakuto, or a 'soul cutter' sword.

"This is where we—Kasaiko, Ishimoto, myself, and hundreds, maybe thousands, of others—come in. We, the shinigami, or 'soul reapers' in your language, have to eliminate the hollows and send any reluctant human souls to Soul Society. These," she indicated a sheathed blade leaning innocently against the wall in a corner, "are our weapons, the zanpakuto. Their powers differ in type and strength in accordance to those of their shinigami."

Rin leaned back in her chair, the childlike smile back on her face. Leslie's arms relaxed as well and she realized she could move them again.

"Any questions?"

She said it as if it were the simplest, easiest thing to understand in the world. As if she actually _understood_ what was going on right now in her crappy life! As if this little brat right here thought she was superior to her…_her_! _Leslie Jensen_! God, she wasn't even asking for much, just for her to leave and be back with her friends! Was that too much to ask!?

"You…" she growled, "You…just…" her voice was getting dangerously shaky, which was strange, her mind thought faintly, since she never lost her temper this easily at school. But then again, considering the scenario…

"Just shut up! SHUT—UP!" Leslie was screaming now, but honestly didn't _care_ anymore, "Just take me back home! I want to go back! I want to wake up! Just leave me alone, will you!? Shut up shut up shut _up!_"

And with that, she leapt out of the hospital bed and stormed out of the room.

"Bit sassy, isn't she?" Kasaiko muttered, rolling her eyes.

Rin merely sighed. "She's just one of _those_ girls, you know? A few years and she'll be fine."

"I'm not sure if I can stand a 'few years' around someone like that. I bet she'll be wanting the First District, though even that'll probably be 'not good enough' for her. A District like the Fortieth or Fiftieth would do her some good, actually."

The two girls—women, actually, considering their real ages—sat in silence for a moment again as Daisuke stared blankly at his book, though he wasn't actually reading it. _How in the world could such a spoiled, and stubborn, and thick-headed person even exist?_

He shook his head and closed the book, getting up to slip out the door.

"I'll get her. We don't need her tripping over something and mortally injuring herself," he said to his superiors, then adding under his breath as he walked out, "though that _would_ be nice."

"Ah, right. Thank you, Ishimoto. Oh yeah, Kasaiko, weren't you supposed to report to the higher ups that you finished your mission?"

"Oh…dear me, I forgot," the black-haired woman replied, sun-colored eyes smirking carelessly, "Ahh, woe is me, I never asked or wanted to be captain," she cried out in a mock-sorrowful voice as she rose from her seat.

"Not my fault you hate responsibility so much, Kasaiko-_taichou_," Rin intoned dramatically in kind, "but…you really need to stop running away from this kind of stuff," she said seriously, all playfulness gone, "Your division _looks up_ to you. They need you. You can't just leave them for slacking off and playing games."

Kasaiko shrugged and turned away, looking suddenly tired. "Just how old are you, Rin? A kid half my age is telling me off…" she shook her head, smiling halfheartedly, opened the door and began to head toward the First captain's headquarters.

-

What a pain.

That was really, the only thought running through Daisuke Ishimoto's mind as he walked his way to Leslie Jensen's reiatsu (no need for flash step—just a waste of energy. Plus, he wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting her again). But soon she would be moved to Rukongai and out of the way. At least, he _hoped_ it would be soon. He couldn't stand even thinking about enduring another day of hearing the human whining and sniffling in her sleep.

Granted, dying was probably a traumatic experience, and doubly so for a hormonal (and _female_) teen, but Daisuke, like pretty much every other shinigami, had long forgotten his previous life, if he even had one. But if he did, it no longer had anything to do with the present.

Up ahead, he saw Leslie's brown hair flying behind her as she ran to…wherever it was she was trying to go. Daisuke sighed and flash stepped to about five feet in front of her.

"AAGHK!" she screamed at his sudden appearance, but recovered quickly. "What the heck were you thinking?!" she cried angrily.

"What the heck were _you_ thinking?" Daisuke countered, "You have no idea where you're going, do you? You don't know how to get out of here, and you don't know what kind of people live here. Running around like this," he continued, ignoring Leslie's spluttering protests, "you're putting yourself into more danger than necessary."

Leslie tightened her lips. "This—isn't funny. Whoever thought this stupid joke up is...is—"

"Nonexistent," Daisuke filled in, "You're dead. How many times do we have to say it? There's no going back, not to what you used to be, anyway.

"…You guys aren't joking…are you?" she asked after a pause, "I mean, about you being grim reapers or whatever," she laughed nervously.

Daisuke shrugged. "You can go on believing that this is all a part of your imagination, or you can face reality. Your choice."

"…So it was all real. Those…hollows, you fighting with them, all of it? It wasn't a dream?" Leslie swallowed as the dark-haired boy nodded, and she quickly swiped a hand across her eye. "I… But I have a life to live! I have friends! I have family! I haven't graduated from high school, or gone to college yet! I haven't married yet, or had kids or gotten a job, and…and Mom's waiting for me at home! I can't just leave her alone! Can't I..." Leslie bit her lip, hard. "Can't I come to this whole afterlife place later? Can't I just put it off until I'm older or something? I can't...I can't.."

"What you _can_ do and what you _have_ to do can be very different," Daisuke muttered bitterly, "But you have to understand…" his voice softened to something akin to understanding, "Life's never fair. Death doesn't wait for anyone. Everyone who dies leaves things, leaves people behind. Don't think you're the only one. But that's why we're here. You can make a new life in Rukongai; maybe find a family you can live with. That's the nice thing about dying and coming to Soul Society—you can start things over."

"I don't want—" she started, but looked over at the boy, who was staring off somewhere into the sky—for some reason, his face was somehow a little sad looking—and slowly unclenched her fists, suddenly feeling a little...guilty, though she couldn't figure out why.

"Fine." She crossed her arms. "Fine. Besides, the way you put it, it sounds like I don't even have a choice."

Daisuke snorted derisively and turned away from her, a hint of bitterness flickering across his face.

"You don't."


End file.
